


Voyeur

by A_King_Alone



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_King_Alone/pseuds/A_King_Alone
Summary: Danny has a crush on you ~
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 312





	1. img_1.jpg

You awaken to find yourself in another trial. Same as usual. All you feel is endless rage and hate it all because it never ends and you don’t know how to make it stop. Nobody else does either. You and your fellow survivors just do your best to cope with the uncertainty of when the Entity will summon four of you to a location, only for you to be hunted down and exterminated.

Nobody knew why they were chosen. Everybody assumed it was completely random and for some reason, you got plucked out of what used to be your very promising and aspiration-filled life only to awake in a dark forest near a campfire, where you met the others and learned of your forced twisted fate. You felt robbed of your life, robbed of having agency of your own existence. And it pissed you off.

You, though. You got pretty good at learning how to play the game and how to get out without dying, at least 50/50, you’d say. Fellow survivors looked to you for advice on how to proceed and often, you were the one directing a plan whenever you spawned together into the trial. Half the time, you could escape, against certain monsters out there. But some of the killers, there just was not any kind of hope of living through their terror. They were too good at it.

One of the select few that came to your mind adorned an extremely creepy, slim white mask. And he was the one you hated the very most. He was one of the silent killers and those killers were the ones you detested because they always caught you off guard. You never knew where he would be or from where he was watching. And he was **always** watching.

You groaned inwardly after you gathered a grasp on your surroundings. It was the institute, a large building with narrow corridors. Last time you were spawned into this area, you and your team had to face the insufferable Doctor. His madness spread through shockwaves, causing intense and unimaginable pain so great that anyone would scream at the impact. It was difficult to avoid the Doctor when everybody kept screaming within his vicinity.

You hoped it would be anyone but him. You regretted such a thought later. It was impossible to get away from him in this hospital and you were pretty sure it was his personal domain.

The air felt chilled as you quietly tip-toed through the open hallways, only walking when you felt safe one of the rooms, where various medical equipment could conceal you. A yell erupted from somewhere near you and you hunkered down next to a gurney.

Another pained scream came again, but closer this time and you heard the grotesque noise of bodily meat being hung onto a hook. You knew then that it was a silent killer because whenever the killer was near anybody, your heartbeat would escalate more and more the closer they got to you. Yet right after your teammate was hooked, your heartbeat calmed quite suddenly.

Your brows knit together, trying to think fast. It didn’t matter which one it was, you had to go and help your teammate. You were the one closest to them, you couldn’t just leave them. You crept through the safety of the room toward where you had heard their scream, just barely peeping from a doorway both ways. Nothing there, but you did see your friend hanging.

Darting from your position, you quickly grabbed under their armpits, using all the strength you could muster to lift them off of the bloody hook. When you first began your trials, you couldn’t even do it. It took a long while for your body to get used to the abuse and toughen up.

“C'mon, now!” You grabbed his hand, leading him away toward another room, a tight spaced one, then ripping your friends shirt where a large gaping hole was in their chest, exiting through his backside. It looked disgusting. While wounds like this would ultimately end someones life simply by blood loss and the brutality of the trauma, in this realm, where the trials took place, the survivors bodies could somehow handle a lot of physical damage.

It was funny, in a way. Veteran survivors preferred the hook wound a whole lot more to the wounds killers could make. This wasn’t half as gross as seeing your friends head smashed in with the sledge hammer of a psychotic hillbilly. It was even worse if they survived it. You shuddered.

“Well, it didn’t break your collarbone this time,” you said with a light chuckle, to try and ease the mood, as your friend merely winced in pain as you attempted to patch up the wound and stop the excessive bleeding.

“Thanks,” he groaned, inhaling sharply when you pressed down.

“You’ll be alright Jake, you’ve seen worse,” you assured him, even though he didn’t look very hopeful. His lips thinned with a small smile, sitting against the wall to rest for a moment.

“Leave me here, I’ll be fine,” he assured you, though you were worried that he wouldn’t be. But you trusted his word and nodded.

“Alright. I haven’t heard the others—”

A scream echoed down the hallways interrupted you, before another did as well following shortly after. A shaky breath left you and you swallow, hard. It sounded as if the other two were severely injured, not hooked, but injured enough to become rendered immobile. Jake struggled to stand, holding the wall for support.

“I’ll go, Jake. Find a generator, work on it. We’ve got four to go and we’re all getting screwed. But we can get through this,” you tried to sound hopeful as you spoke, but it felt futile. Usually when the trial snowballed in the killers favor, it was highly unlikely that anyone would make it. Fuck that. You had to try.

Jake nodded as you both parted ways. You inhaled a deep breath, letting it exit your lips. You crept as quietly as possible down the hallways, until you heard another scream, that high-pitched scream definitely signaled being hooked. As you were heading in that general direction, you heard another, but from your other teammate, in the opposite direction.

 _Oh, fuck me_ , you thought. _Alright. Jane is closer, I’m going to get her and then tell her to find Jake. Then, I’ll get Claudette and we’ll split somewhere together. Alright… I can do this. I can do this._

As you approached Jane hanging there helplessly, blood began gushing from her wound when she began shaking her head, waving her hands to let you know the killer was lurking near by within her line of sight, but not yours. You stopped behind a counter, peeking over to scan the area. Your eyes widened.

Your frozen stare met with that dreadful white mask on the other side of the counter, which tilted at you as he waved his hand at you. You darted away immediately, rounding the corner out of his sight. You couldn’t hear him at all, fuck! When you arrived to a room line with bookshelves filled with novels, you positioned yourself beneath the desk in the center.

Since you couldn’t hear him, you hoped by remaining out of his line of sight that he wouldn’t find you. But unfortunately for you, you heard Jake screaming again instead, your heart racing. This isn’t good! You hoped he would’ve just kept looking for you. Two already hooked and now Jake was found?! You heard his piercing cry as the hook reopened his wound again.

You were their only hope. Three on hooks. You swallowed.

Darting from the desk, you attempted to make your way back to one of them, any of them, because they needed you. At an intersection, you peeked around a corner, looking for blood or any kind of trail you could follow to lead you to your teammates. You had run from the killer in a haphazard path, so you were a bit confused to your actual position and theirs.

But before you could move on, a sharp pain suddenly entered deeply into your backside and you collapsed immediately. Cursing, you struggling to crawl along the ground but found it to be fruitless. You weren’t able to save them and you slammed your fist on the ground.

You knew they wouldn’t blame you. But you blamed yourself. If you had only been smarter, if only you had outplayed the killer and rescued at least one person, you could’ve possibly swung the trial back into your favor. Black boots circled into your view before the masked man in blood-soaked leather crouched down in front of you.

“So, we finally meet again,” he said in a cheery tune, muffled by that stupid mask that you hated. His gloved hands were playing around with the blood caked onto the blade as he watched you slowly bleed out. You bet he had a smug ass look on his face too under that dumb fucking mask.

“Fuck you,” you spat, turning your head away from him.

Most killers didn’t interact with the survivors the way he did. The Ghostface tormented them and reveled in their suffering and would even take pictures of his kills, that sick sadistic bastard. You preferred to just be slaughtered mercilessly than to be toyed with before your inevitable death claimed you and brought you back to the only comfort you knew, the flickering flames of a campfire.

“Why’re you so mad~? I did this all for you!” he exclaimed excitedly, the tip of the knife beneath your chin, lifting your head to meet with the bloodied mask of an unfeeling murderer.

You grimaced, jerking your head away from his knife with a scoff. The pain radiated through you with your sudden movement and you groaned, trying to keep your breath steady. You heard him audibly purr with pleasure in response to your pain.

“You’re disgusting.” You turned your head away from him, seething with anger and hatred, wishing you could just bleed out faster and you could go back to the fog. But you knew that’s not what would happen. Not with Ghostface. He never just ‘let you go’. No, he always had to have something first. Always.

“Did you forget how I taste already~?” He bent down further, leaning over to where you had faced away from him as the daggers in your eyes met with him. “Want a reminder?”

All you could do is sigh. The most you could hope for is that he would have his dumb little fun with you before finally ending your life and secure his victory as the merciless killer. What a fucking sicko.

You recalled the most recent time you had seen him, some several trials ago, you never kept count anymore. Whenever he figured out it was you that spawned in the trial, he would get sweaty to kill off your teammates before any of you could complete objectives and then he would relentlessly torture you for as long as he felt like before finally ending it. Of course, with his own “personal souvenir” at the end.

The last time, after everyone else got killed, he had tied you up in a way that left you suspended in the air to one of the four hooks down in the basement that spawned in every trial no matter what the location was. He gave you multiple lacerations, deep ones, cutting into your meat over and over. And then he simply watched you after taking a ton of photographs of you, dangling with your pained moans as your blood dripped down your body onto the floor, doing things to himself that you tried really, really hard to block out of your memories.

The worst part was when he turned his own blade on himself, wiping his own blood from the knife between his fingers and to your absolute horror, he shoved those bloody fingers down into your throat, saying, “ _Now I’ll always be inside of you_.”

And you bit down. Hard. As hard as you could, though you couldn’t tear through leather with your teeth, you hoped it left a bruise at least. He slugged you so hard in the jaw that you were knocked out cold on impact. That feeling of his gloved fingers surrounding your tongue, the metallic taste gagging your throat…

You never forgot it. Not once. And you tried to. It haunted you because there were several killers, but none of them ever did these gross things like Ghostface did. You weren’t sure if he did it to others or just you, but you didn’t care. You hoped the Entity would somehow destroy him, even though you knew it was impossible. But that was the only thing you knew to be stronger than him. You dreamt of it.

“Hello? Are you there~? C'mon, stop being so coy,” he uttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone, his hand running through your hair gently. You growled, jerking away from him again.

“Just get it over with already,” you muttered, putting your face in the crook of your arm so you wouldn’t have to have him in your sight anymore, trying to not focus on the pain you felt. It was only a matter of time before he kept doing more worse things to you, it was better to grit your teeth and not let him have the satisfaction of your reactions.

“But it’s been so long! I’ve been thinking of only you, doesn’t that make you feel special?” he said, sitting down on the ground now with his back against the wall. His arms went around your middle as he turned you onto your back, pulling you across his lap with ease despite your struggling. Your head was cradled in his arm, the other rested on your stomach and arms. All you could do was grimace as he held you, feeling uncomfortable in the position.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think of you, ever,” you retorted through your gritted teeth, trying your best to turn your head away but the way he positioned you in his arms kept you from doing it. Each time he’d just move his arm to readjust you.

“You’re lying~” he whispered, bending down over your face. You closed your eyes tightly. You didn’t want to look at that mask. It was the most abhorrent thing you had ever seen and whenever it emerged in your memories, you felt physically ill.

You felt that he was doing something as his other arm wasn’t laying across you anymore, but you didn’t care. If you couldn’t see, then it didn’t matter. You hoped he would just plunge his knife as deep into your chest as it could go. At least you didn’t have to look at him. He couldn’t force you to keep your eyes open.

But something suddenly warm against your lips had your lids flying open. For the first time, you were seeing what Ghostface actually looked like, but really up close, too close. All you could see in your utter confusion is that he had slender-ish eyebrows and dark hair, strands falling just above your face. A few defined freckles?! And his lips were pressing against yours and you began to flail to get away from it, but as you did, he grasped onto your arms tightly to hold them against your body in place as he kept forcing his kiss on you.

You breath lodged in your throat as you attempted to keep your lips closed, until he bit down on your bottom one pretty hard, causing you to yelp in pain. And he took that opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Your displeasured voice was muffled by his lips interlocked against yours, but the noise made him moan your name right into your mouth, making you feel sickness lurch into your stomach. Of fucking course he knew your name already, yet you never told him.

When he finally pulled away from your lips, you saw a trail of saliva connecting from his mouth to yours, his gloved hand wiping it away from his own mouth, but leaving it dribbling off of yours. You blinked with tears pricking at your eyes with the fury, hatred, disgust, confusion; so many feelings swirling around inside of you like a goddamn hurricane.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Ghostface was actually a pretty boy. He had that 'pretty boy’ type of face, even the damn hair style. And in your mind, despite the overwhelming revulsion, the tiniest little thought crossed your mind that wow, he was super good looking. Okay, sure, you could admit that, you told yourself. You weren’t attracted to a sick fuck like him, no matter how damn pretty he was under the mask. All along you thought he was some disfigured monster just like the rest of them under the mask. It jarred you how surprisingly **normal** he looked.

“Oh, what, can’t take your eyes off of me now? Did you fall in love? Are you gonna be mine forever~?” he teased in a soft but somewhat raspy voice, the tip of his tongue running over the top of his lip, those pitch black eyes piercing into yours.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you doing this? Please, just kill me already,” you pleaded for the first time, your voice cracking just slightly. You felt like you were going to cry because you wanted to get away that badly, but you definitely could not allow it to happen and you knew he wouldn’t just let you go. He’d enjoy seeing it.

His grip on your body tightened as a sinister expression crossed his features, leaning down really, really close to your face. “Be~cause, _silly_ , you’re _**Mine**_.”

You were speechless.

“Do you think I enjoy hunting you down every trial? I mean, yes, I most certainly do. But~ it’s really a hassle when all I’ve wanted to do is keep you all for myself,” he murmured with a gross simper. He continued on as you could do nothing but stare at him in abject horror.

“Do you know how many pictures I have of you? Hundreds, maybe even close to a thousand. Do you know what I do~ when I look at them~? Do you?”

You gulped the spit that pooled inside of your mouth and his smile widened, his hand rising to meet your cheek, his thumb catching a stray tear that fell from your eyes. “You swallowed me,” he whispered so gently as some kind of… almost affectionate type of expression shifted his gaze. You felt like you were about to gag.

You tried to twist away from him but then his grasp on you grew tighter as he bit into his bottom lip with his grin, forcing you even closer to him as his hands gripped hard into you, so hard you thought it might bruise.

“Fuck off Ghostface, you sick freak—-” you had began but your jaw dropped when you saw that he was now looking at you with this gaze of absolute longing, as if he just were completely and utterly enamored with you. As if he were stupidly in love with you or something. He closed the distance again, kissing you once more. Your noises of disapproval were trapped in your throat and every time you did it, his pleasured groans were against your lips.

He parted away from you just slightly, you could feel his breath on you, hot and heavy, when he whispered, “ _Call me Danny_.”

His name was Danny?? He had a name?? You hated everything and every moment that passed, how he was showing you that he was a human and not a monster. But he was a monster, he was definitely a monster. He just didn’t look like one like you had imagined. You hated it.

“Please, say it,” he moaned into your neck as he began nuzzling and leaving kisses along it toward your jaw as you closed your eyes tightly. “Please~”

Why? That was all you could think of in your mind as you were trapped in his clutches. Just why? Why you? Why was he so _obsessed_ with you? Not that you thought lowly of yourself, but you weren’t the most beautiful person in the world, not hideous or ugly, but not drop-dead gorgeous either. What was it about you that he was so drawn to? You couldn’t ask. And it was obvious that he was growing impatient.

“Say it, or else I’ll keep you here **forever** ,” he threatened with that stupid cheery tone while your face soured. Was that even possible? Did the trial go on infinitely if the killer kept one alive? You’d never seen it happen so you couldn’t say for sure if it was true or if he was bluffing to make you do as he wanted. You bet on the latter, but you also didn’t want to stay any longer than you already have. Just give him what he wants and then you can be on your merry little way back into this endless torture and try to forget any of this even happened.

“D… Danny…” you hesitated, saying his name just barely even above a whisper in the smallest voice, but it was enough for him. You could tell. He seemed really giddy about it, smiling like a dumbass.

“Do it again~” he murmured softly and you gave a weakly irritated scoff, feeling fuzzy stars floating around your vision. You had lost a whole lot of blood, most of it pooled beneath your body and all over Danny’s lap from the stab wound he inflicted on you. You groaned, unable to keep your head up with the dizziness. Good… You could just fade away…

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t pass out yet! I wanna stay with you a little longer!” He propped your body upright, the back of your neck rested in the crook of his arm. It was somehow laughable to you that he looked so concerned for you when he was the one that stabbed you in the back in the first place. His brow furrowed slightly at your weak giggles, but then a smile spread and he started giggling too a little bit along with you.

You scoff again, rolling your eyes, trying to keep them open but finding it more difficult. Why the hell was he acting this way? Before now, every encounter you shared, he usually did some grossly sadistic shit to you and took pictures, or, rarely, other perverted, nasty things. He never outright molested you but he made you watch him perform a few times. This was the first time that he acted so drastically different.

“Danny…” you whispered his name and it got his attention immediately, his intense gaze focused solely on you, on your half-lidded eyes. **Ha.** So that was the only smallest bit of power that you could have over Ghostface.

“I.. fucking… _hate_.. you…” you uttered feebly, your energy and will depleted from you and you were more than ready for death to claim you, but in your blurred vision, you saw that he was smiling so warmly at you. It was that look again. That look as if he were just so hopelessly in love that he couldn’t even contain it. It was just confusing and horrifying.

“That’s okay,” he whispered into your ear so gently and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand holding the back of your head against his shoulder, your arms dangling limply.

_“I’ll_ **make** _you love me.”_

It was the last thing you heard before your descent into darkness, your corpse being held lovingly by a psychotic killer who awaited excitedly for the next time that he could see you again. Because he wanted more now. He had a taste of you and he wanted more, so much more. And he would have you. You were his and no one elses.

You belonged to him and he wanted to make sure you knew it. No matter where you were, no matter what you did, he was going to be watching you, following you and awaiting for the perfect opportunity to have you all to himself, again and again and again and again.


	2. img_2.jpg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn a secret

Your eyes flutter open, blurry dark vision greeting you. The branches far above you begin to come into focus. Crackling noise of fire eating wood fills you with a bit of the comfort of warmness and safety. Your face feels far warmer, but you knew it was because of a different reason.

As you sit up slowly, you see your fellow survivors are sitting around the source of light, trying to keep the dull warmth to stay in their bones. They can tell something is off with you, your prolonged silence and avoidant behavior was unusual.

They ask if you're feeling alright, you coin some bull about feeling overly guilty for messing up, that you felt horrible over the fact that it was a critical moment, but you had failed, resulting in your teammates deaths. It wasn't completely untrue, it just wasn't ate away at you.

Of course they went on, attempting to reassure you that fault didn't fall solely on your shoulders. Sometimes there were trials that killers dominated and there wasn't much anyone would be able to do once it reached that point. You said, yeah, sure, somehow irritated by the concern they offered, but it was because of your dirty little secret.

You felt like you didn't deserve their concern.

You breathe in deeply, turning away from the fire toward the thick of the woods. "Going for a walk," you said tiredly. No one questioned you, only their worried stares watching your back as it disappeared behind the foliage.

As you aimlessly wander, your mind keeps replaying your encounter with Ghostface, how he maliciously stabbed you and then held you captive in his lap as you were dying. You still felt it, the way his lips and tongue were all over you, every detail back to back inside of your brain. It played out behind your eyelids when you tried to close them.

Bile welled under your tongue, a tightness in your throat as you felt you were going to vomit when you remembered words he had said to you. Your throat closed itself for a moment, causing you to gag profusely into a series of dry heaves for a few seconds behind a tree before you could catch your breath.

You wiped your mouth weakly. Just... Why did he have to look so... normal? If he were another grotesque creature, you could deal with it. But he wasn't. He was hot. Stupidly hot. Hotter than anyone you'd ever seen in your life, not that you could remember much from your past, but much more attractive than any of the survivors. The overwhelming shame you felt with your shallow perception seemed like it might consume you entirely.

You wanted to sleep for days, to let it all fade away, to escape from not only this horrible realm you loathed being trapped in, but from your memories that plagued you nonstop. As you returned to the campfire, your friends noticed you and smiled, but they left you alone and gave you space. You were thankful for that.

You eased yourself onto the ground, laying on your side and adjusting yourself until you found a sufficiently comfortable position. Your heavy lids drooped closed. Every time his face manifested, you tried really hard to think of anything else. But there was nothing else to think about.

Even in your dream, his image cursed your nonsensical visions. Cornering you, forcing his kiss on you, his hands all over you. You wake suddenly as you shot upright. Your hands covered your face with your frustration, how you wished so desperately that it'd go away.

But it doesn't.

You feel as if you **belong** to him and you don't. You belong to yourself and only yourself, no one else. Certainly not some pushy delusional psycho. A pushy delusional psycho with eyes for you. And apparently, for you only.

And every moment between, you felt nothing but dread. You dreaded seeing him again, him finding you again. What would he do? You didn't want to think about it. Would it be worse?... Your gut said yes.

He had no problem with forcibly holding you down and kissing you. Kissing was something long forgotten about in a world like this, for you. And you hated how your body had reacted to it against your will, because that's a normal thing that happens when you're stimulated after a long period of time of stagnancy. You hated that you admitted to yourself that it felt really, really good, to receive that kind of attention.

You felt utterly disgusted with yourself. You actually preferred it when he did nothing else but used you as a catalyst for his ugly sadistic desires, not this. Not this creepy obsession and possessiveness.

You couldn't say for sure if his obsession was new or a recent development or something that was there from the beginning. Physical contact wasn't something experienced here, in the Entity's world, as far as you knew. At least, not for you. It was scary and you hated it being forced upon you, even if you kinda shamefully liked it.

The only thing that was ever on your mind was trying to survive death and escape immense suffering. To find some way out. Not finding a fucking boyfriend. Who in their right mind would ever think of something as stupid as that in a place like this?

You were well aware that some survivors did find that type of comfort in each other. But you didn't participate. You found it to be a liability, favoring someone over everyone else over measly physical touch, therefore, making mistakes when the one you enjoy becomes the item of torment for a killer. You'd seen it happen.

But you didn't blame them, nor did you look down on them. That was just your own personal opinion on the matter. Survivors only had each other for comfort. It was natural that something may bloom into something further. Everyone respected each others privacy and never meddled. Consenting adults could do as they wished. If weird relationship problems arose, you ignored it and let them handle it.

You just stayed out of it. People were complicated and the last thing you needed were more complications. But you couldn't deny your envy that they were brave enough to be vulnerable.

All you wanted to do was forget everything. To maybe actually die next time and not return.

You found your next trials to be ultimately relieving, even when you were killed. Each time you were summoned, you were scared out of your mind until you knew who the killer was. And you breathed a sigh of relief when it wasn't him.

But you couldn't focus.

You were mangled in ways you never thought possible because of your mistakes. You were stabbed to death. Your skull was caved in and your fingers were sliced off as a stolen prize. A horrid creature devoured the entire upper half of your body, leaving the rest to decay. But you didn't care. The pain was nothing new. You didn't mind if you died over and over and over again, as long as you never had to see him again, nothing else mattered. You told yourself you could handle it all.

That paranoia never left you. He wanted you to look for him. And you hated that you did, every single time.

Your friends looked at you pitifully whenever you all finally returned to the soft glow of the campfire. They could tell that something was off with you, but they never pushed it. Existing in this place was hard enough sometimes. But they commented that they were glad that you were back in one piece. You could only give a hollow smile. You didn't feel like talking. Being eaten half alive skull first was something you never thought you would prefer, despite how completely terrible of an experience it was.

It wasn't long before you felt the tug of your summoning, pulling you away from where you wished you could stay, to another unknown destination for the same old story with different flavors.

You recognized this place as you looked around you, the tall cement walls enclosed all around you. The Meat Plant, a place where you hadn't been to in such a long time that you struggled to find your way around. You started off alone and wandered as quietly as you could, dropping down through an open hole in the floor down into a dimly lit bathroom in the underground, a generator close to the only entrance.

You put your attention on fixing the machine in front of you, lost to your thoughts because of the stillness and near silence around you aside from your repairs. It felt eerie and a bad feeling sunk into your stomach as you were closer to completion.

A scream from your teammate startles you with a jolt, it was close to your position. You gulped and continued, frantic to get it going. Another horrid cry of pain came muffled further beneath the ground. The basement. The generator lights flashed on in your success, automated doors opening a new path way once rushed with power.

Out of the several lockers, you picked one closest to you and tried to hide inside without making too much noise, feeling no presence and that alone was making your fear spike considerably. The nausea surged when a black cloaked individual silently crept through the entryway and your breath caught inside of your throat.

He was slow in his steps as he passed each one, an upbeat tune lightly coming from behind that mask and you prayed you were hallucinating. The knife twirled between his fingers, the edge tapped playfully against some lockers he wasn't looking directly at as he approached nearer to yours.

You try to quell your escalating panic when you heard his his voice come out in a dangerously low tune, "Where are you~?"

You can't breathe, trying to rationalize by telling yourself that he definitely did not see you in this room and he does not know that you're here, at all. You hoped it would stay that way, your legs trembling. And then, in your limited view, you saw him standing there, only the doors between him and you.

A soft whimper catches in your throat. You couldn't think. You didn't know or care if it was audible enough for him to hear it. He was going to find you. He doesn't move at all when one of your teammates crosses the wrong wires, igniting an explosion loudly right up the stairs from you. He's completely still.

And suddenly, he turns and walks away from you, his pursuit now on the possible locations of your team and a shaking breath left you. All you had done was prove to yourself that you weren't prepared for the worst. You didn't even want to leave the locker, on the verge of hyperventilating.

If there was a chance that your presence was still unknown to him, you planned to escape the trial without being seen by him. You felt horrible giving into your cowardice, knowing that your team needed you if they wanted a better chance at success. But you don't want to know what he's going to do to you when he finds you. Because he will. That was the only thing you were certain of.

If he saw you, he would hunt you down.

You open the locker door cautiously, peeking out to get a clear view. It seemed you were alone, so you gathered your courage and went toward the hallway leading toward the basement. You could hear your friend Meg down there, groaning in the searing pain she was in, struggling for her life. You were the closest, you had to rescue her. It wouldn't be right to leave her.

You do your best to remain extremely quiet if not soundless while descending the stairs toward the darkness. When you reach her, you grunt as you free her from the claws of the Entity and she thanks you roughly, coughing from her exhaustion. You tell her to run as far as she can, to find someone to patch up her wounds. She nods, making her escape as you return to another locker, toward the back corner.

You hated the idea of using Meg for bloodtrail bait, but you couldn't handle it. You couldn't face him.

But to your horror, you heard Meg's shrill screams very close by, your hearts pace quickening, more and more. All you could hear was her trying her best to get away as it grew closer. A piercing cry from going right back onto the hook, instantly devoured by the starving Entity. And then silence.

That same upbeat tune is near you as he's whistling it this time. Your arms wrap around yourself in a fruitless attempt to calm your tremoring body. He couldn't possibly...

"I know you're here~"

You hear his voice through the slits of the locker right as the doors burst open, you, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. He sharply inhales. Your mind goes blank. All you see is Ghostface standing there, blocking your only exit, and you're completely cornered. He's unnervingly still.

You can only imagine that awful grin beneath the mask.

He closes in on you immediately as you flattened yourself as far back as you can go, but it was no use. His body pressed against you, hearing his hoarse whisper when he invaded your space as his bloody glove caresses against your cheek, leaving a wet red streak from his touch, " _What a surprise..._ "

Your face falls with disgust as you glare at the floor, visibly shaking in your fear, uncertainty and anger. Why won't this creepy fucker just leave you alone? This torment was more suffering on top of the base suffering of this hellish nightmare and you have to put up with being relentlessly harassed by this sicko.

"Mmm, you're trembling~ You want me that _badly~?_ " he sighed lowly with his hands slowly roaming your body freely even as you recoil from it, gritting your teeth at his gross fucking words. It pushed you to your breaking point. With all your strength, you shoved into his chest enough to send him stumbling backward.

Enough room for you to dash past him and make a run for it, but all you hear is him laughing wildly at you. You're halfway up the stairs when your arms get locked to your sides as he grabs you from behind, clutching into you with excessive force when you started to kick and scream.

Gravity becomes your enemy as he threw you back down the staircase, laughing at you as you tumbled painfully until you smacked the flat below on your stomach. You moaned from the impact, feeling aches all over you, wincing from it as you leered to where he loomed above you. At the top of the portal, he's standing there with his head titled down.

" **You really think that you can get away from me?** "

He didn't sound amused, his tone heavy with the promise of fulfilling his threats if you kept being difficult. It was far worse than the stupid little cheerful act he paraded. Slowly he goes down each step toward you as you tried to get back to your feet, strained because of the pain you felt.

"You can't run. You can't hide," he said calmly, matter-of-fact like, when he reaches you as you managed to stand upright, your hand against the wooden boards to keep yourself steady. You're on the defensive, ready to make a reckless try once again, but his dark tone make you freeze.

"Don't make me hurt you."

You knew that he would. Less of what he'd done recently paled in comparison to the horribly disgusting things he did in the past to you. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of the extent of his full cruelty because he was more than willing, more than capable. And eager. So eager.

His hand rises directly in front of you and you flinch, only for him to softly touch your face. Tears sting your eyes as you glower with contempt.

"You want me to," he rasped as you furiously shake your head to deny it, your eyes wide with your fear of how unpredictable the situation had gotten. Ghostface responds with a drawn out guttural hum before he grabs your hair, yanking the back of your skull when he pushed you against the wall. Pleasured groans rumbled from him in response to your pained cries.

"Dangling yourself in front of me, whimpering for me," he whispered dangerously close, breathing heavy as you struggled against his grip. "Waiting just for **me**."

You felt utterly sick to your stomach over his detailed delusions, painting the picture perfectly clear for you. How could he possibly mistake you purposefully avoiding him as a ploy to get his attention?! What a fucking lunatic!

His knife is against your throat and you go still, glancing pleadingly with an emotionless mask tilting at you. You'd rather die than to be subject to his games. You hated pain, you hated how much pain you had to constantly endure and pretend that it doesn't affect you, but you'd rather be cut into ribbons. How could it get any worse? He was going to do whatever he wanted whether you liked it or not.

A generator came to life somewhere far away upstairs, but Ghostface doesn't pay any mind to it. You hadn't realized that at least one or two of your teammates could possibly be alive while the killer played around with you unbeknownst to them. You thought he would've gotten rid of them as soon as possible. The clatter of metal hitting the floor jarred you and before you could react, his hands were around your throat, choking off your airway.

You thrashed wildly against him to no avail, you were no match against his strength. Your conscious began fading fast, unable to breathe against the force over your neck. Soon, you were enveloped in darkness.

When you woke sometime later, your head was pounding and you felt dizzy. There was a cloth stuffed into your mouth, covered with tape. You realized your hands and ankles were bound together as you grew more alert. You were inside of a locker again, sitting on the floor of it with your knees upright. That son of a bitch choked you out and tied you up. You were furious, thudding your shoulder against the doors to see if you could open them.

The door swung open to your surprise and you gathered that you were still in the basement, but now there was blood splattered all over every surface, fresh liquids and pieces of meat dripping off of the hooks in the center. It felt so much more dark now as you saw the aftermath of violent demise. Ghostface was crouched in the corner opposite of you, his jaw propped against his palm. His mask was gone. His face was covered in blood.

"That's a good look for you," he said softly, meeting your gaze with that dumb, affectionate smile. Apparently he was in a much better mood.

Your muddled reply was incomprehensible through your gag, but you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. He merely chuckled at your struggle, rising before he came closer to you. Kneeling down, he cut your bonds with his knife, freeing you. That was unexpected. You took the liberty of ripping the tape too quickly off of your face with a hard gasp as you spit out the balled up fabric.

He looked pleased. A thoughtful look crossed his face before he opened his arms toward you, his fingers gesturing that he wanted you to come to him. You glared as you reeled back to spit at his face. It landed on his cheek, next to his mouth that spread with a grin. The tip of his tongue lapped some of it away with one motion and he beckoned you again.

"No second chances," he warned. He was giving you a silent ultimatum; go to him willingly or submit to his torture. You hesitated. You didn't want him to get psychotic, you wanted to just leave and it appeared that the quickest way to get to that was to play along with him. Again.

Your eyes fall to the ground as you inched toward him, settling against his chest as his arms closed around your shoulders, holding you lightly. His sigh of content grazed your bruised neck and you grimaced.

"You know what I want," Danny murmured into your ear as you tilted your head away from him, but he took it as an invitation to drag his tongue against the length of your exposed flesh. You made an audible 'ugh' and he chuckled.

He leaned back from you just enough to gaze at your unhappy expression, all the while he just smiled faintly while never breaking his gaze away from yours. "Kiss me."

Now you were watching him incredulously, but he just rose his brows as his grin deepened.

There wasn't any other way. You couldn't deny him of his demands because he would draw this out as long as possible. Your distaste and hatred burned inside of you, but you closed the distance between your lips and his, only a peck against them, but his gross smile told you everything you needed to know.

It was that fucking look. You loathed it, the fact that he had an expression of longing, looking so infatuated, desperate for your attention, any little bit of it. It was so hard for you to understand.

He hurt you. Physically, mentally, he damaged you over and over again without remorse, with every opportunity that he got. The memories you had of him apart from the recent all involved various degrees of sadistic torture.

You knew what it was. It was all intentionally thought out, to force you to come to him. He confirmed with his actions that he would use any means necessary.

Danny moved closer to you, invading your space until he was up against you, he couldn't hold himself back anymore. His lips were against your ear, whispering sweet nothings that a lover might say, disgustingly sweet words that you felt were more like poison, saying how much he dreamed of you calling his name every time you were apart. _Moaning it. **Screaming** it._

Those hands eventually roamed over parts of your body that were sensitive to the touch, places that were long forgot. It stirred some kind of feelings within, but you tried to swallow them, to not show too much reaction to anything. You wanted to hate it. A part of you did, swelling into tears that poured from your eyes, a soft sob escaping from your tired grasp. You were tired of holding on. You were so tired of it all.

And he shushed you, gently wiping your tears away when he pulled back enough to do so. You hated that he looked so concerned for you when it was his diabolical plot that lead you both here.

"Please don't cry," he breathed, but it only made the downpour escalate in your cascade of horrible emotions. He continued to catch your tears onto his gloves with a gentle smile. " **I** need you."

All you can do is stare at him, at his face, the perfect portrait of an ideally beautiful person. A twisted perverted psychopath. That face of yearning for your touch, for you kiss. You could tell. The corners of his mouth rose just slightly as he leaned closer toward you, glancing from your eyes to your lips, eager to claim his prize but visibly forcing himself to go slow, to enjoy every single second of it.

His breath shook as his lips met yours, only brushing against them. He wants you so badly and you can feel it, his excitement for a moment he had waited so long for. His lips drew back barely an inch before you murmured, "Why me..?"

And he smiled with a huff, those dark eyes piercing into yours. No semblance of light reflected there. "I thought I told you that you were mine."

That didn't answer your question.

His lips captured yours again, more fervently although restrained, grasping your body tightly as a gloved hand found its way into your hair, pressing you into him harder. A sharp, sudden pain makes you gasp. He had bit into your lip, not with a lot of pressure, but your reaction appeared to rile him up even more, moaning unabashedly into you. Even the slightest of noise that you made seemed to electrify the blood in his veins.

You found yourself forcing yourself to get lost in your own head to ignore any pleasurable sensation while his needy tongue filled your mouth. You felt like you might have understood why he never molested you or at least you had a theory. He could have. He definitely could have sexually overpowered you long ago, but he never did. You guessed based on what you has observed that maybe he had an overwhelming desire for you to be the one to initiate it. And you knew he liked to have things his way.

Your arms hesitantly returned his embrace as your arms slithered around his torso, lightly pushing your body against his despite the nausea from touching the blood clinging to him. You felt him tremor with a slow groan reverberating deeply from his throat. You now knew of two things that made the Ghostface weak to you. He made it easy to see how badly he ached for you.

His kiss became rough against you, pushing into you until you were on your back in the pool of guts and blood all along the floor as he hovered above you. He broke away only to look down on you with his lustful gaze. You knew what he wanted.

You decided in the heat of the moment to indulged him, breathing his name just to see what his potential reaction might be out of your morbid curiosity but you regretted it as soon as it left you.

You failed to realize until it was a second too late to take it back that implying that you might want him of your own volition would become your biggest mistake. You had solidified his fantasy into his reality. The way you had said it, the tint of blood rushed in your cheeks, your voice low and hushed, showing just the very slightest of acceptance. In that moment, you had appeared as if you visibly wanted him right in front of his face.

And Danny was laughing. Short, breathy huffs kept leaving him, seemingly torn between confused but utterly overjoyed.

" _I knew it,_ " he uttered breathlessly and in the overwhelming horror that devoured you as your soul turned into an ouroboros swallowing its own tail, you couldn't understand what he meant for a split second.

" ** _You_ love _m_ e**."

His tone sounded almost hysterical, too overly excited even in just a whisper. Somehow his grin appeared entirely evil to you, euphoric and malignant.

It all came rushing back to you. Every instance. One single moment was all it took, because no matter how much you protested, no matter how much you rejected him, in his mind, he had only one thought and one thought alone. You **did** want him. And he only needed one thing to make it real. Anything that could be interpreted as a signal from you. In his perfect fantasy, he wanted you to be the one aching for him, to be the one craving his touch, begging for more, begging for **him**.

And you gave him a taste.

It felt time stopped around you and you were watching yourself from far away, watching yourself succumb to your permanent psycho boyfriend. You fucked up. Now he would never leave you alone. Never. He would never stop coming after you.

You were his world and he intended on making himself yours.

"Th.. That's not..." you began, but fell short as he leaned closer toward you.

"Not what?"

For some reason, fear constricted you. He was looking down at you, expecting an answer, but the one you wanted to give was stuck in your throat.

"Not true?"

He was smiling, but it looked wrong. You blinked rapidly, unsure of what to do or even say. So you closed your eyes tightly, pulling him by his neck into a kiss and it took all of two seconds for him to melt into you with a gratified hum. He really was easy...

It couldn't get any worse, you thought. Surely there was nothing you could do now to make it worse. But then he's shrugging himself out of his leather as you're frozen still as your face flooded red. His upper body is bare for you, lithe but muscular, which was nice to look at but you only had a strange thought that it looked weird how he wasn't caked in blood.

"I love it when you can't take your eyes off of me~" he purred with a low groan to your chagrin as you'd been staring pretty hard, your eyes casting to the side.

He's on his knees, straddled over your middle, bare fingers hovering over your lips before he pushed them between. Noises escaped you when he shoved his fingers further inside, filling around your tongue and gagging you slightly.

His other hand produced that familiar digital camera, which you recognized immediately and felt your fury simmering at the sight of it, but you didn't want to put up a fight anymore. He snapped memories of his fingers roaming over your tongue as the flash made stars float around your vision. You heard him making soft comments to himself about the details of certain ones, marked as favorites.

They were finally withdrawn once he was satisfied, only to be replaced with his thumb running over your bottom lip. You watch as he brings that hand to his own lips, licking you off of his fingers with a brief but a jubilated breathy laugh.

"You don't know how long I've waited," he sighed with bliss, bending closer to you to show you the photographs he had taken, pressing a button for one to go to the next before your eyes.

The slides went past the recent ones he had just taken, showing older photographs. You recognized each one, because you were the subject in every one that passed to the next. Images of your body, mangled and brutalized, your bloody meat, you tied up in uncomfortable positions, your crying face, your chest lined with several stab wounds, selfies with only your dead body, kissing your corpses lips.

And he didn't stop. He studied every shocked emotion that crossed your face with a criminal grin as you saw all of these various pictures that he had taken, many you couldn't even remember because they were just pictures of you doing random things in trials long before you were subjected to his torture rituals. It wasn't even close to a third of the way through the gallery.

What exactly did he meant by "how long he waited"? He pulled the camera away, smiling down at it lovingly before placing it safely on top of his bundle of meat soaked leather.

"How... long..?" you managed to utter out half of your thought, your mouth and throat dried in fear of the answer he may or may not give. Drawing his attention onto you, his elbows propped his body just above yours as he titled his head closer to your face to brush his lips over your own. Yours quiver.

"So, _so_ long..." he whispered against you. "And now, you're finally all **mine**."

Horrifying. Terrifying. These were the only words that could come close to describing the intense trepidation and horror violently swirling within your mind coming to the realization that Danny was a truly insanely sadistic stalker, an obsessive mentally deranged freak, that was, for some reason, madly and hopelessly in love with you. So much so that he followed you around long before you even knew of his existence.

And his love was cruel, vicious and savage. He told you that you would learn to love the pain. Yet he was more than capable of being gentle, being tender, when he really, really missed you.

The new photographs in his private collection detailed that night, his favorite night, down in the Meat Plant basement, zoomed in shots of his hand around your throat to force your eyes to the camera lens when he was filling you, your open lips caught in a scream when his thrusts were erratic and violent, blurring the image. Your meshed bodies covered in sweat and blood. He wanted to keep every moment, hundreds of new additions that he'd look at when he was far away from you.

And he'd smile in his wait for the next time he could have you.


	3. img_3.jpg (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taste is bitter

As you sit around the safety of a campfire with your friends, you notice that they appear happy you seem to feel better. You hadn't seen him as much lately. You attempt to include yourself in conversations, but you really just don't feel anything at all. Everything felt dark, all colors seemed to pale and desaturate. Numbness.

You want to feel something, anything, but you don't. Nothing can make the memories that plagued you dissipate. His essence was marked all over you and you had to sit with your existence mangled into his. You feel as if you're literally brain damaged.

Unfortunately you had way too much time to sit around with his image constantly invading your mind. So you thought about him, just like he wanted. But you were more observant than he may have estimated.

When you do come across that gross freak, you tried to act out your theories about him, going off what you knew about his personality. You knew you were sick in the head for even trying to imitate how he implemented his mind fuckery, but you had to try.

You learned some things over time, things that really weirded you out to your core. You caught on very quickly that it turned out Ghostface was extremely easy. Anything you did, even in the slightest, he ate it up, he was all over it.

It makes you feel disgusted but then also... kinda flattered?? Just why couldn't that have been from anyone but a deranged psycho??

These discoveries came in waves and you found out over time just how much of a truly fucked up sociopath he really was.

It seemed that finding you was his favorite game, hunting you down and saving you for last. He learned with precision how to completely annihilate your team because he always wanted to be alone with you. You wondered if that meant he always looked for you in every trial, but you felt like you already knew the answer.

And when he finally got to you, he always prolonged it, taking his sweet, sweet time with you before your inevitable end separated you once more. The only bit of small happiness you could hold onto was the fact that there was always an end. At least you didn't have to be subject to his will constantly. You didn't want to know what you may become like if he could honestly have it his way.

When you were made of stone and unresponsive to his attention, he readily became violent with you and grinned with glee over it. Sometimes just absolutely cruel.

You learned the hard way about disobeying, especially if you called him Ghostface. He wouldn't allow you to, after making it clear when he strung you upside down by your ankles, slapping you when you were about to pass out from the blood rushed to your head and reminded you that it would be worse next time if you did it again.

He wanted to you call him by his name and only that.

Before that very moment, you had gotten lippy with him. It was frightening when he yanked you by hooking your cheek with his fingers, forcing your mouth open only to shove his knife into your throat, the tip just barely hitting the back, causing you to whimper and gag.

"Say it again. Go on, I'm _**waiting**_ ," he'd utter low and prod just slightly deeper. He made sure you wouldn't forget.

His words were never particularly violent though, which was somehow worse for you. Much of the time, when he was torturing you, he was repulsively sweet with how he whispered his affection toward you.

And always turned

**the fuck**

_**on.** _

If it wasn't his knife, Ghostface certainly enjoyed seeing his cock shoved down your throat, making you gag profusely, saliva dripping down the sides of your neck. Your hands, tied behind you and all you could do is make noises of contempt. It was hard to breathe when he pushed further, taunting you with a raspy low tone, "Aww, are you gonna choke?"

He'd draw back from your abused throat after some several seconds as you cough out spit, glowering up at an emotionless mask staring right back at the streaks down your cheeks. "Mmm, that's good," he purred his approval of your sloppy face.

Your hair was gripped by his gloved hand, shoving your head down at the ground, moving one black boot forward toward your face.

"Lick it."

Hesitantly, your tongue laps against the grime and bloody covering the tip of the boot and you can hear him groaning at your repulsed expression. "Keep going."

As you continued with your utter disgust at the gross metallic taste, all you could hear were the whispers of his praise. When he seemed satisfied, he knelt in front of you, his fingers beneath your chin and he lifted your head. "My drooly little slut..."

It became very clear to you as time endlessly went on that Danny had very specific... tastes... He liked leather, that much was obvious, but he liked leather being _drooled_ on. And he liked drool, always incredibly pleased to see it dribbling from your lips, especially on his fingers, licking it off of your mouth.

He also liked to suffocate you, not even out of sexual gratification and you fucking loathed that more than the physical pain. Not only was he completely suffocating as an individual but he liked physically doing it to you as well.

It sickened you how he told you he enjoyed sneaking up on you and smothering you until you blacked out and then you would awaken elsewhere, unusual places in locations that he... **_meticulously_** prepared for just your torture. It was all way too thought out.

There were no words for how disturbing it was. It was raw, brutal. But there was one thing though that bewildered you most of all and you just couldn't get it.

It was a special thing that he loved specifically and it was making you lick his boots. You couldn't understand at all. Not that anything made any sense with this weird fuck. You could get some of the other stuff, breathe play, choking or whatever... but the boots?

He'd force you to clean them with your tongue, often, the top, the bottom. And for some reason, he really fucking enjoyed it. If you did a 'good enough job', sometimes he was super loving to you after and would even allow you to escape through the hatch.

You wondered if he thought of that as some kind of worship or something. It made you sick, how he inferred himself to be the center of your existence, making you bow down to him as if he were your personal overlord, your idol.

As if he were your god.

As gross as that was in so many ways, licking dirt, mud, blood from a leather boot... You found that you kinda preferred it to everything else if you didn't have to be tortured, trying your best to perform it to his standard, just so he wouldn't hurt you, even though it did rile him up to an extent sometimes.

But nothing made him more pleased than pain. That you knew from the beginning.

Danny _**loved**_ seeing you in pain, it was his absolute favorite and he wasn't shy about expressing that to you, with words, with action. He'd demand for you to scream that you love it, never hesitant to try and wreck your body to make you obey. He'd break bones.

"Say you fucking love it," he'd whisper in your face, such an evil leer locked to your eyes, grabbing your jaw if you tried to look away, centering it back so you could only look at him.

His grin grew when he maliciously shoved his knife to the hilt into your ribs, intentionally puncturing your lung, pushing it even further into you with a moan as your throat tore with your ear piercing scream. He was grinning.

You cried, your voice wet with blood, choking out how you loved it, half-hysterically sobbing slurred words begging for more. It was a reoccurring theme, for him to command you.

" _Tell me you_ ** _love_** _me_ ," he'd demand hoarsely, never able to control himself and his erratic movements as he fucked you. If you didn't respond right away, he'd lean over your back as a gloved hand grasped your sore neck. " **Say. It.** "

" _I_.." you'd begin softly, feeling him buck already with a stifled moan with his growing excitement, biting his lip as he held onto you. Inwardly there was a that twinge of disgust, because you didn't love him. But they were just words, weren't they..? "...love you.. Danny..."

"Mmm, yeah... _Yeah_ , you do... That's it...~"

You close your eyes tightly.

Each moment you could recall made your hatred grow, how he would use you as his personal sex slave, how he'd just as quickly stab your chest, penetrating your heart, and then snuggle you as you were dying. Murmuring how he couldn't wait to see you again, how much he was going to miss you. You loathed hearing that before death finally claimed you.

You had to shake your head to jog yourself away from your unpleasant memories. You hadn't heard anything your friends were saying, as they said your name over and over.

"Huh?" you utter as you blink, a forced smile raising the corners of your mouth slightly. They looked worried, but you assured them that you were fine, you were just feeling a little bit spaced out. It seemed they were discussing premade plans for survival, finding it much easier to work together beforehand than trying to figure it out in the moment.

Apparently, they had found a secret offering out in the fog, a shroud of some kind, which would allow for two people to appear in the trial together. It would've been better if all four could do it together and potentially get a one-up against the killer. They were planning to give it to whoever got chosen. But it was something and they would use anything they could get.

Little did you know, Danny had a plan set for you. He patiently waited.

As you began your trial, despite one of your teammates having brought the offering, you found yourself alone in the institute, Lery's. You were unaware of something shadowing your every moment silently.

You walked about through the hallways, searching for your objective, when you caught the familiar jacket with bright pink sigils upon it. You call out to Yui and she turns toward your direction, motioning you to come over.

Yui and Feng had spawned together, informing you that there was a generator just a little ways off, that Jake was already working on.

"The genny had all four sides exposed, so we can all work on it together and pop one off quickly," Feng said quietly, but she seemed elated that they were having a good start. The three of you join up with Jake, working diligently to give it power.

Idly, Jake asked aloud to the rest of you if anyone had seen the killer yet. Nobody answered. Yui mentions that it's been really quiet the entire time and that it was giving her the creeps, a strange and bad feeling.

They hadn't noticed a figure slowly approaching, crouched low in the shadows, when suddenly he lunged. A knife entered the spine of Feng, causing her to cry out as the weapon was twisted deeply within.

Everyone scattered, leaving poor Feng scrawled out on the ground, but they weren't quick enough as the Ghostface tackled Yui next, savagely stabbing her backside as she screamed helplessly.

You and Jake were running down the hallway, but Jake was yanked backward by the killer as you had turned to look back, your face contorted with the sheer pain and seeing your friends violently attacked, Jake being brutalized right in front of you. All three of them are stuck against the floor, crying out with their agony.

Ghostface's glove grips his blade as he stands over your friend, wiping the blood away with one clean swipe as he laughs darkly. You were frozen in fear.

Your friends faces twisted in their confusion as to why the killer wasn't trying to go for you already. Why hadn't he gotten you yet? And why weren't you running? The Ghostface faces your injured friends, the tip of the knife pointed at them.

"You can thank you friend for leading me to you," he sneers at them before turning to you and suddenly embracing you, your face blanching out at the horror and the sudden contact.

"You did so well~" he'd praise in a purr and Jake barks out with a horribly betrayed look on his face, "What?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You try to defend yourself, the word 'no' just out of your mouth before Ghostface lifts his mask, your voice caught against his kiss. His back is turned to them, so they couldn't see. All they can hear is your muffled groans to try and make him stop but he doesn't.

"You betrayed us, I cant believe you betrayed us!!" Yui cried in distress with a cough as she struggled to move, blood pooling beneath her. Feng only glared from a distance as she was the furthest behind.

You felt your inside decaying, unable to get away from his mouth, your arms pinned to your sides by his, his hands clutched into your clothes. He finally pulls away, but your friends are still shouting in anger and they can't hear your voice over themselves.

They saw Ghostface pushing you into a room by the hallway where the massacre took place out of their sight and he violently stabs you once he has you against the tiled walls but also gropes against areas sensitive to you, a startled half scream, half moan emitting from you.

"What the **FUCK**?!" you hear them and you're horrified as you're being shoved into a shower stall as he pressed against you.

You're struggling hard but he grips your cheeks hard enough to pry your mouth open and shoves an unknown fabric inside, holding his palm against your lips to keep it shut while you're gagging on the dry cloth clogging the back of your throat.

"You better stay right here," he threatens but you shake your head with desperate muffled pained moans, the knife pressing further into you as he's laughing dangerously.

"So you wanna die first then?"

Your eyes widened with the several tears that were leaking over, realizing that if you died first, they were going to die right after and you would have to face their wrath. They were misunderstanding and you could hear the animosity in their outbursts.

You hoped to anything real that they would believe you once you left the trial and could talk to them. You hoped desperately that they would believe you when you told the truth, the horror you'd been facing alone all this time.

He was willing to do something he'd never done, taking your life before anyone else. Because he knew what he was doing.

It was all intentional, an attempt to completely isolate you.

And for a brief moment, you thought, _oh fuck. Oh fuck._ **Oh fuck**... What if they _didn't_ believe you? If you were killed before them, you would be the first to return, but then they would return very soon after, three of them against only you. Would they... all turn on you...?

That had to be it. That had to be what he had planned.

Disgusting... fucking.. disgusting... sicko..

_Sicko.._

**Sicko...**

You feel like something is broken in your brain. Slowly he eases off of you, you wincing only when he withdrew his weapon from your body. He gently pets your hair, strokes your face, but you aren’t there anymore. You're far away, the present a long faded dream.

A dream you were no longer apart of.

You weren't sure what would happen. You stood there leaned against the corner of the shower stall, unhearing, unseeing, you don't even realize that he was gone until he's there in front of you again, all surfaces of him slathered in blood. The entire mask looks drenched damn near, not even really appearing to look white.

It was hard for you to look up because you were collapsed against the back of the tile when you thought you were standing at some point.

And then it's gone, flawless, untouched flesh. He is wearing blood.

You can't seem to find a way back to yourself, having bleed out considerably from your wound, somehow gone from the shower and then else where. You come back for a moment to being held on his lap, your head cradled against his neck and he's humming a slow tune softly.

"Why..?" you utter out weakly, your eye lids drooping heavily.

"Hmm~?"

His arms around you adjust you a little bit, holding you a little closer. You cant think. You forgot what you even wanted to ask, letting your eyes close, submitting to darkness. You hear humming again, every note seeming to fade away further than the last.

You awake with being violently shaken, a first and very disquieting experience for you.

You see your friends. You see the fury worn on their expressions, demanding explanations for what exactly was going on. And it seemed that they had discussed it heavily with everybody else before you finally arrived.

"So you're in love with that killer? Y'know, the guy who **murders** us?!"

You try to say that you're not, that he's a sick freak that attached himself to you, who'd been obsessively stalking you and won't leave you alone, but they bring up the kissing, the... sexual moaning... Your face flushes as you look away, nearly reeling from the intense nausea of them actually saying it out loud.

You couldn't remember all of the details because you had a mental breakdown half-way through, trying to recall it, but they began accusing you right then and there.

"You throw us to this murderer just so you can fuck?! What's fucking wrong with you!!" your friend Jake blows up and you just start to cry. As much as you attempt to deny it, you couldn't change the way that they saw it.

You were exiled, from that point onward.

They would not help you. They would not talk to you. In their eyes, you betrayed them for those who torment them and make their existence absolute hell. It was like you didn't exist. It was the worst you had ever felt, aside from the first time you woke up in this realm.

You hated him. You hated his guts, you hated that he created a special place of suffering for just you, inside of a hellish prison, all because he was so goddamn obsessed with you for some dumb reason. And you _suffered_. Greatly.

All trials that went without him were horrible. Your friends ignored you and let you die and they wouldn't accept your help if you attempted. Snide comments and otherwise never holding back on the mean words they could spew at you, constantly reminding you of the betrayal.

It was awful.

And when you finally saw him, you felt nothing but blind rage. He left you alive of course, even if he saw you around anyone else, he would deliberately ignore you and chase them down right in front of you. Killing them all, save for you, to make them hate you even more.

You grabbed into his leather when you were alone, screaming why, how could he do this, not holding back on how you thought he was a sick sadistic fucking bastard, how he should just rot. And all he did was laugh.

"Only me. Just me."

You didn't even know how to react. Simultaneously you felt you wanted to actually kill him with your bare hands, but you knew you weren't strong enough. You wouldn't be able to.

But what shocked you the most was that he wasn't unnecessarily **mean** to you anymore after that. At all. He wouldn't hurt you as often, he wouldn't relentlessly torture you with that sadistic intensity or even claim your life.

He was nice to you. Somehow he was horrifyingly normal in his behavior and it was strange and really different to what you had grown accustomed to. Before, if you so much as talked back or tried to deny him, he wouldn't hesitate to destroy you and remind you of how he would punish you.

Now every time you encountered him after he secured your _precious_ fucking alone time, he was very sweet to you despite your outwardly expressed rage and disgust, while of course still being overly affectionate physically a lot of the time, often ignoring your struggle to reject it, but never reacting with extreme violence like he had in the past.

Eventually, you just sort of accepted his advances. Eventually, you expressed your hatred less and less.

The worse part was acknowledging that it was pretty much exactly what he had wanted. It was intentional to isolate you and then completely shift how he treated you, his behavior toward you.

He knew that by causing the other survivors to turn against you, you wouldn't have anyone on your side. Except for him. The only time you felt wanted or as if your existence mattered, it was when you were around him.

Disgusting. Words couldn't describe how much your entire being detested him and his repulsive existence.

But you couldn't deny it. You couldn't deny that it felt good to be held, to feel wanted and... somehow, special. To not feel so alone.

There were no consequences for his actions in this realm. The Entity, whatever it was, as far as you knew, had no intent to interact with whatever Danny wished to do. He still killed. He still sacrificed, a little too well, you would say, so you guessed that as long as he did his job, then nothing else really mattered to the Entity. You were trapped.

You hated that you liked that he wasn't so cruel anymore, that he didn't force you to feel pain you'd thought you would never experience, in ways that were horrible and inhuman. You hated that you knew that he was doing it on purpose.

There were many times then on when he was on his knees for you, going slow, paying attention to how you feel. It was alien to you, because it was so vastly different. You hated it, how it felt good when his hands roamed over sensitive areas and that you enjoyed it, how he took his time, giving you pleasure rather than just using you only for his own satisfaction. He was giving you his fullest attention without making a single demand of you. No pain.

He seemed overly ecstatic when you were visibly pleasured with his oral, satisfied vibrations coming from him, making it feel even better.

To finally feel something good inside of a world of nothing but pain, it was the most powerful surge of your orgasm, coiled tight until it all released with your body shuddering.

You taste yourself after he'd enjoyed what was left of you, standing only to greedily moaning your name softly into your kiss. Smiling into it, pulling your body closer to his. You were all his. You wanted to cry, for good reasons, for bad reasons, the fact that you were being treated kindly, the horrid fact that he cornered you into this position.

You couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much for you.

You decide in a split second that you had to kill Ghostface. You **had** to. It would never end unless you killed him. You don't know what will happen, but you don't care anymore. You were not going to keep being his slave or being a subject of his torment. He wanted to make you feel like he was the only one you could be close to, you were going to prove him wrong. You take a hammer from a tool box and you keep it with you at all times. Now you were the one waiting for him.

One trial some time later, you found yourself lucky, as you managed to catch a glimpse of that black shroud stalking one of your teammates. Your mind is blank. You do your best to stay silent, your eyes wild with your fury, coming up closer and closer and closer...

You raise the hammer high over your head and strike down as hard as you can over his crouched form, hearing his grunt of surprised pain as he stumbled over. You strike again, knocking the mask away from his face, pulling the blunt end of the hammer back. You can't read his expression and you don't try, you slam metal into his face and bludgeon his head while screaming at the top of your lungs.

He looked to you with half of his face destroyed when you stopped for a moment to catch your breath. His skull was completely caved in, his eye hanging from his socket. His body is convulsing with one wide dark eye.

Your hate fills you to the brim, almost about to start wildly laughing at the sight of him.

"You know what they say about crushes...?" Your voice quaked with your insanity, sounding absolutely mad as he tilted his head just a bit before you continued. You were violently shaking. Your lips formed into a tremoring smile.

" ** _They get crushed_**."

For a brief moment it looked as if there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but you don't allow it. He has no power anymore. You continue your vicious assault against him until he completely stopped moving. The meat of his visage was unrecognizable. You pick up his mask off of the ground and decide to keep it as your prize.

_I've done it_ , you thought, your chest heaving with your victory as you begin to laugh and bawl at the same time. You fell to your knees over his body and sobbed hard, nearly choking on the air rapidly entering and exiting your lungs.

You're finally free.

Once you regain control over yourself, you make your way to the exit as it was being powering open and escape the trial with your team. They were bewildered by never seeing the killer and visibly shocked by the blood covering you, yet you were uninjured. You told them the truth as you showed them his mask, the mask of the Ghostface.

You killed the killer. It was unheard of and somehow, you managed to gain the trust of your friends once again by committing this sin against the killer who was supposedly your lover. You were honored as an unbeatable legend among the survivors, for doing the unthinkable. Fighting back. And succeeding.

Much time had passed since then and everything felt... normal again. As normal as it could get, that is. You hadn't seen the Ghostface again, nor had anyone else. You wondered if by killing him, he was finally gone for good. You could only hope so. But a strange feeling overcame you, as you were pulled to your next trial some long while later. Something felt... off.

A blood red mask with two horns protruding from its forehead is staring you down when you were pulled from a generator halfway through the trial, your soul leaving your body as two arms clasped around your body tightly.

Now you knew. You really, _really_ fucked up.

“ _Did you_ **miss** _me~?_ "

You're his forever because this realm never ends. It goes on for all eternity.

_**Death is not an escape.** _


	4. img_4.png

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦  
> 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲~"

A ceaseless nightmare.

The Ghostface, a stalker, a serial killer, was your world. He spared no one but you, in your hell wonderland, your prison, he, the warden. When you were ensnared by him once again, it was almost as if nothing had even changed, catching you in the same cycle, unable to find solid ground.

You weren't alone, but you were alone. Your friends eventually understood your condition, once they put the pieces together in that one of their masked menaces would never disappear, nor any of the other horrible monsters they had to face, even if they were somehow killed. An aura of hopelessness settled over all who surrounded you, knowing that their fate was undoubtedly sealed. All belonged to the Entity.

Time claimed your soul, a hollow shell, rendered unable to even put on a facade around your fellow survivors, never a smile, never participating in conversations. Waiting to die, over and over again, despite death never coming and never fully able to get a real grip on that knowledge. 

You played the game. But you weren't there, not really. Only held together by a single strand, ready to fall apart at the seams if it was pulled out from within you. And your 'boyfriend' held onto it very, very tight.

You were finally broken by him. 

There wasn't any way to escape his grasp. 

Long after the scars faded from your vicious attack on that stupidly ideal image hidden beneath a ghastly mask that depicted horror, it became a memory almost lost to the overlapping spans of time, the fact that you smashed Danny's head in and with that, your only successful kill. He'd joke about it with you, like it was nothing at all and you hated it every single time it happened.

But one trial, alone together after his fun little murder spree, in a stone basement under the large temple claimed of decay and alive with foliage, he held your hand.

Danny one day disclosed a secret to you, without warning. He let you know specifically just how often he had thought of it, the only time you struck back. How it was unforgettable, how he'd jerked off to the memory thousands of times every time he had to be apart from you.

How that was his deciding factor, when he was pushing you hard into the solid stone surface, enclosed around all you. Dead in the eyes, he whispered your name low and aggressive, close to your face, "I'm truly.. in love with you..."

You couldn't utter a word.

You couldn't look away.

 **This** was who he really was.

Deep inside, you still felt it. That hatred, that disgust, the helplessness. How time helped it mingle together with the acceptance, the surrender, your spirit to deny him weakening.

Soothing you under a hot waterfall from a slightly disfigured shower-head, steam risen all along the tiled room filled with empty stalls, the only time you felt something.

No noise, aside from the water and the occasional window clattering in the wind, blocked by his back, your backside held against him, as he gently cleaned your body with lather in the heated stream. A rare moment inside of the institute. To be held closely, to be treated kindly, lightly kissed... If you had to be subject to the worst of experiences this realm gave to you, you wanted to feel something, anything good.

You liked it when he held you close, consoled you, somehow simultaneously sickened and calmed when he'd say, "It's all okay," only to then comfort you for as long as necessary, because his patience in forcing your surrender was just as infinite as the realm you both resided.

It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay, none of it.

You wanted to fight back, sometimes physically ill when the trauma became too much to bear, unhinged mentally because the only solace was the sole cause of your pain. You wanted to do it again, break him, over and over again, to make him feel even an ounce of what you had to endure. You knew he wasn't sorry.

But it was the same for you. Mangled grotesquely, yet infinitely repaired.

He chose you. And he forced you to chose him. A bond that he tied with his own hands between himself and you.

He knew he had you, when you began to exploit his weaknesses, because you learned him. Needy, wanton, playing him like an elegant musician might with their very hands, giving him what he wanted, to play him into giving you what you desired, to feel like it mattered, even though it didn't.

And he accepted, every time, melting into your voice, taking everything you had to offer and gave into you. But he'd use it against you, when he wanted it his way. A little more often than not, because of your overt willingness to use your charms against him, desperate for anything warm in your harsh and cold reality. So he wouldn't show his face to you.

Sometimes he even looked different, his same ghostly image only shifted in various styles, becoming his harsh 'other' half, unresponsive with a hidden horrid grin to your attempts to make him yield to you when you even tried to kiss the mask and quietly beg. 

And he'd fall back into the same old patterns, backing you into a corner, and taking it upon himself to violently punish you or sexually dominate you, all for his own unapologetic pleasure and nothing for you, because he could. And he wanted to. If you couldn't hold it in and screamed, you knew he fucking loved it, he adored it when you hated it. Never as often or as harsh as it had been in a long distant past, but more than you would prefer.

You had no control. He had it all.

And he made sure you knew that.

You knew what he liked, you indulged him to receive the sweetness of reciprocation, soft in the ways you liked, that you could handle, to coax him into being a gentle, loving monster, to appease your fantasy of what could be, but ultimately, was nonexistent. But you could only do it when he wanted you to. It always had to be his way.

You were the property of a passionate, delusional psycho, with an endless and vicious need to rip you apart and bury himself inside of your heart as many times as it took to make you his permanent home.

True escape was never an option. That was the will of the Entity in the abyss of an infinite night. Daylight was never within reach, because you could never die.

In Danny's personal dark paradise, he had found it.

You were the **One**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the final conclusion has come in a very short, but sweet (lol), afterstory. Thank you for all of the support and comments, I was really surprised! Thank you for enjoying my story and my personal rendition of the character Danny Johnson, the Ghostface <3
> 
> In the end, (You) are his lover, forever and ever ~
> 
> Oh, and here's a little secret: One of my top favorite songs is called Voyeur, by The M Machine. That is what inspired the entire story, from beginning to end <3 Enjoy


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